<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>In the Neighborhood by TheseusInTheMaze</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345802">In the Neighborhood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze'>TheseusInTheMaze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Bath Sex, Blood, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort Sex, Light D/s, Vaginal Fingering, slight peril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 06:49:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha gets into a spot of trouble. Good thing the Doctor is in the neighborhood to help out!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Martha Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Neighborhood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melacka/gifts">Melacka</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is vaguely... AU-ish. The timeline is a bit wibbly-wobbly - imagine that Martha hadn't gotten together with Mickey, hadn't married Tom, but instead had stayed with UNIT until it was shut down.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martha Jones hadn’t meant to get into a fight.</p><p>	She really hadn’t! Contrary to what some people thought, Martha would prefer to have a quiet life. Sure, she liked a bit of adventure now and then, who didn’t, but… well, with UNIT being decommissioned, she hadn’t exactly been keen on doing any other kind of army work. So now she was working at an overnight clinic, and it was hard to remember that she was doing any good when it seemed like endless conversations about birth control and what not to put up your nose. </p><p>	She’d signed on to protect Earth from aliens and aliens from Earth. Not... any of <i>that</i>. But some things were hardwired in the back of her brain, and when she heard someone yelling, she went running. She was the only one on the empty street, and the area was almost entirely shops, which had been closed hours ago. She couldn’t even blame it on her UNIT days, not really - she’d been like this since she was a child. Any sound of distress, she’d go after it. </p><p>	She found a teenage boy in an alleyway, still screaming, and there was a very unpleasant looking man menacing him. The menacer was holding a knife. </p><p>	“Oi!” </p><p>	That was dumb. That was really dumb. In retrospect, it was pretty high on the list of dumb things that Martha had done, and probably should have said… well, she didn’t know what she should have said, but <i>oi</i> was probably an especially bad choice. It was <i>also</i> a bad idea to stand backlit by the streetlight, like some kind of avenging angel, when she could barely see into the alley, but tonight just seemed to be chockablock with bad ideas, so why stop a trend?</p><p>	It was all a bit of a blur after that. </p><p>	Martha had been in fights before - been in battles, although not that many, thankfully. She knew, intellectually, that what she was doing was a bad idea, and she should have thought things through a little better but she was tired, and tired meant stupid. Which was why she yelled again when the kid rushed towards the guy, clearly trying to get away, and Martha threw herself at him as well, and then there was wetness down her side, but she’d kicked him in the balls and he’d dropped the knife, so that was something. There was also someone else at the mouth of the alley, and Martha wasn’t sure what to make of that because she heard boots echoing - <i>maybe the kid got out?</i> - and then when she looked over the man’s shoulder, there was a person standing at the mouth of the alley in a long coat.</p><p>	“Y’know, it’s not nice to bring a knife to a fistfight,” said the person, and it was a woman. She had a Northern accent, and she sounded somewhere between annoyed and amused. “Although then again, I s’pose it isn’t nice to start a fist fight if you don’t have one pre-planned.” </p><p>	There was a flurry of movement, and Martha was falling down on her knees - the intensity of the impact went up her legs, jolted up her spine, and there was an uncomfortable scraping feeling, along the skin there. <i>I hope I didn’t rip my pants</i>, she thought distractedly. </p><p>	She was usually good in a crisis. Why was she not being good in this crisis? Was this a crisis? She seemed to have gotten rusty, since her last real fight. </p><p>	There was swearing, but she wasn’t really paying attention to that. She was on her knees in a filthy alley, which was… well, frankly, it was unpleasant. And her side was <i>hot</i>, a line of hot that seemed to go from right beside her breast down her ribs. There was cool air on her bare skin, and how could there be cool air, this was a shirt with closed sides.</p><p>	The woman in the coat, with the Northern accent, she was saying something about Venusian jujitsu, which was ridiculous, but everything else seemed to be ridiculous, and she <i>really</i> needed to get up. </p><p>	There was a thump next to her, and the man who’d been holding the knife was in a heap on the alley floor, and the woman was offering her a hand up. “Martha Jones,” the woman said, “you sure know how to find the excitement, don’t you?”</p><p>	Martha blinked up at the woman, eyes darting from her hand to her face. “Do I know you?” She was swaying, and her side was still wet. Surprisingly wet, and it was probably soaking into her jeans. These jeans were gonna be done for, weren't they? </p><p>	“Oh, you haven’t met me with this face yet, have you?” The woman was still holding her hand out to Martha, and Martha looked down at it again. “I’m the Doctor!”</p><p>	“No you’re not,” Martha said, and she stood up herself, and winced. She could feel cool air on her knees as well, and it stung when it hit them.</p><p>	“I’m not the Doctor <i>you</i> met,” the woman said. “I mean, I am because I’m still the same person I was, you might change but you’re still fundamentally <i>yourself</i>, all told, but I looked different then. I’ve got a different face now, different everything!” She did a little half twirl. </p><p>	Martha blinked. <i>I’m in shock</i>, she noted, and it was a clinical sort of thing to note, dropped into her head like rocks in a pond. “I don’t believe you,” she said. </p><p>	“We met when the Judoon platoon took your hospital to the moon,” the woman calling herself the Doctor, her tone earnest. “You said I was mad when I kicked my trainers off and went barefoot on the moon. And!” She made a flourishing gesture, “<i>and</i>, we met Shakespeare, and you rescued me when one of my hearts got stopped with an evil pin. And we rescued the last dodo, and we got sent back in time by the Weeping Angels and you had a job in a shop and -” </p><p>	“Okay,” Martha said, holding one hand up to stem the flow of chatter. “Okay. I believe you.” She sighed gustily, and oh, she was so tired. When had that happened? <i>Shock</i>, said the rational part of her mind. <i>You’re in shock.</i>. “So why are you here?”</p><p>	“Saw that you were in a spot of trouble,” the Doctor said; “thought I’d drop by to help.”</p><p>	Martha blinked, and then it seemed like all of her thoughts finally connected. “Doctor,” she said, and she could feel her face stretching out in a wide smile, even if she wasn’t sure if she felt like smiling. But it was the Doctor, and she was always happy to see the Doctor, even if she couldn’t strictly <i>tell</i> if she was happy right in that moment. </p><p>	“Martha,” the Doctor said. </p><p>	The man on the ground beside them groaned, and the Doctor wrinkled her nose and grabbed Martha’s hand. “I suggest we get out of here before he gets more conscious,” said the Doctor, tugging Martha along. “We should probably do something about that as well,” she added, indicating Martha’s side. </p><p>	“Something about what? Oh.” Martha blinked, lifting her arm up to look down. Her shirt was cut, where the knife had ripped it, and there seemed to be a good deal of blood. It was probably her blood, come to think of it. The cut was starting to throb, and the pain was rushing over her in a wave. “Ow,” Martha said. </p><p>	“Probably shouldn’t have pointed that out to you, now that I think about it,” the Doctor said. “Sorry ‘bout that.” She was towing Martha along, and Martha was following after her. “So why’d you go charging into that alley?”</p><p>	“Wasn’t thinking,” Martha said. “Why’re you a woman now?”</p><p>	“Oh, y’know how it is,” the Doctor tone, and she sounded downright <i>breezy</i>. She had linked their fingers together now, palm to palm, wrists pressed together. “You get older, you decide to try new things.”</p><p>	The Doctor’s double pulse was alien and familiar at the same time, and Martha let herself feel it, trying not to concentrate on the cut in her side, or her sore knees. At least she was pretty sure wasn’t going to need stitches. The shirt was pretty done for, though.</p><p>	“D’you mind if we go to yours? The TARDIS is around here somewhere, but I’ve got her tracking something, very hush-hush.” The Doctor could still chatter away, at least.</p><p>	“Sure,” said Martha. The Doctor was coming over to her flat. Of course the Doctor was coming over to her flat. Why not. “Sorry in advance about the mess,” she added.</p><p>	“Never been bothered by a mess, me,” said the Doctor, and she swung their joined up hands, cheerful as anything. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	Martha was a little giddy by the time they reached the front door of her building. She was leaning a lot heavier on the Doctor than she would have liked, but it beat being carried.</p><p>	"So how've you been?" The Doctor's tone was so earnest, and Martha was inexplicably reminded of running into someone from primary school on the tube, or maybe in the supermarket.</p><p>	"Been good," Martha said, as she fumbled into her pocket for her keys. "Y'know. Keeping on, what with one thing and another."</p><p>	"I'm surprised you went back to civilian life," the Doctor said. She took the key out of Martha's shaking hand, and carefully fitted it into the lock. </p><p>	Martha let her, to her own surprise. "Well," Martha said, as the door creaked open.</p><p>	"Well?" The Doctor echoed, as the two of them made their way inside. The door creaked, and the light in the lobby of Martha's building was golden and syrupy, Martha squinted in it as the Doctor carefully closed the door behind her. She stood in front of the elevator, blinking at it, and then she watched her own hand reach down to press the button. </p><p>	"I think I'm in shock," Martha told the Doctor. She was still holding the Doctor's hand. It was starting to get clammy. Or was that her own skin getting clammy? </p><p>	"That's not good," the Doctor said. "We should get you back home, get you sorted out." They both jumped when the elevator <i>dinged</i>, and then the Doctor was carefully tugging Martha in.</p><p>	"I should be okay on my own," Martha said, although she didn't entirely believe it. How could the Doctor be <i>here</i>?</p><p>	"I need somewhere to stay while the TARDIS is off searching," the Doctor said breezily, "so killin' two birds with one stone." Then she frowned. "Although I don't condone the killing of birds."</p><p>	"Y'know," Martha said, pressing the button for her floor and untangling her fingers from the Doctor's, "you could've asked first, before you volunteered to come crash at mine." She leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator, trying to ignore the way that her head was spinning.</p><p>	"Sorry," the Doctor said, and she looked contrite. </p><p>	"You could've asked before you just came... waltzing back into my life in general," Martha said, and she was faintly shocked to find that her lower lip was starting to wobble, and her eyes were stinging. "I mean, I know that's what you do, so I don't know why I'd expect anything else." She sighed, rubbed her face with both hands and took deep breaths. She was <i>not</i> going to start crying. She had more dignity than that.</p><p>	There was an awkward silence. Martha kept her eyes on her shoes - there was blood on the tops of her boots. She was going to have to wash them, and she'd always hated getting blood out of leather. Why had she run into that alley in the first place? She had enough military training to know what to do in that sort of situation, and it was <i>not</i> go charging in!</p><p>	The Doctor's own boots entered into her field of view: boots, and blue socks, and then bare ankles, and the hem of that ridiculous coat. Martha looked up the Doctor's legs, to her middle, into the Doctor's face. "I'm sorry," the Doctor said, and she seemed to mean it. She was holding Martha's gaze, and her face did look contrite. "I should've thought it through a bit. Just dropping in, I mean. Things have been a bit more... chaotic than usual, but that's no excuse to forget my manners." She wrinkled her nose, scrunching her whole face up, and there was something so utterly endearing about it that Martha's stomach gave its familiar little flip, the way it had back when the Doctor was a skinny man in pinstripes and red trainers.</p><p>	"I'm a little all over the place myself," Martha said, which wasn't exactly accepting the apology, but wasn't rejecting it either. “It’s not as if you’ve ever had much in the way of manners to begin with.” What had the Doctor meant by "more chaotic than usual"? If the <i>Doctor</i> was counting it as more chaotic, Martha didn't even want to think about those implications. "You can stay. If you need to, I mean. Although I'll thank you not to fiddle with any of my electronics."</p><p>	"I won't touch anything," the Doctor said, "scout’s honor." She belied that by grabbing Martha's hand again, as the elevator shuddered and gave another <i>ding</i>. </p><p>	"You were never a scout," Martha said, but she was grinning in spite of herself. It was easier to concentrate on the conversation than to think about the pain in her side, and it didn’t fill her with an anxious queasiness. </p><p>	"I was too," the Doctor insisted. "I looked right smart in the uniform!"</p><p>	Martha snorted, and she fumbled with her keys, unlocking her front door. She was still swaying on her feet, although she wasn't sure why she was so loopy. She hadn't lost that much blood, had she? </p><p>	"Oo, lookit this; this is a nice flat," the Doctor said, as she made her way in. She even kicked her shoes off at the door, and hung her coat up on the coat hook beside it. "You've got a nice flat," she told Martha, as Martha kicked her own shoes off, then sagged back against the front door, as a wave of dizziness washed over her. </p><p>	"We should deal with all of that," the Doctor said, making a sweeping gesture at Martha's cut up side. The wound throbbed, like a hot wire over her ribs, and Martha’s head throbbed in response when her attention was pulled back to it.</p><p>    "I can deal with it fine," she grumbled.</p><p>    "We can both deal with it better 'n fine," the Doctor agreed, and then she was linking her arm with Martha's and leading her down the short hallway into the loo. Martha was dropped to sit on the toilet seat, her head three steps behind the process. "You sit there," she told Martha, flicking the lights on, and then; "wow, that's a big bathtub."</p><p>   Martha turned, and squinted at the bathtub with the Doctor. "'s'the main reason I rented out this flat," Martha admitted. "I wanted to be able to take a good bath." She shivered, as the cooler air in the bathroom began to hit her bared skin. "Remember that big bathtub in the TARDIS?" </p><p>    "Which one?" The Doctor was digging through Martha's medicine cabinet. “I think she likes bathtubs. She keeps puttin’ more of ‘em around. I think she’s trying to send me some sort of message, honestly.” </p><p>Martha put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands, trying to make the words make sense. Oh, now she was feeling queasy, too, her stomach churning in time with the throbbing in her head. </p><p>She was <i>not</i> going to be sick. She refused, flat out. </p><p>"Maybe that you need to bathe more regularly?"</p><p>The noises of rummaging stopped for a moment, and the Doctor scoffed. "I bathe plenty regularly.” She gave the medicine cabinet a rude look, and then the same rude look at Martha herself. Martha just blinked back, head swimming. “How d'you not have self-sealing waterproof bandages?"</p><p>Martha blinked again, suddenly irritable. "They're not a thing in this century." <i>Stupid,</i> she added, in her head. That was one of the joys of spending time around the Doctor that she'd forgotten - time travelers never could keep track of what belonged to what era.</p><p>	"Well," said the Doctor, and now she was digging around in one of her pockets, up to her elbow. Of course it was bigger on the inside. She’d seen the Doctor do that with the pinstriped suits as well. "it's a good thing I've got some myself, eh?" She pulled it out triumphantly, and Martha had to grin at her expression. She looked so satisfied.</p><p>	Martha sighed, and she rubbed her temples. "How is it that no matter what face you have, it still does the same things?" Was that a thing that made sense? Martha wasn't sure, but the Doctor at least seemed to understand it, because she wrinkled her nose. </p><p>	"It's still <i>me</i>," she pointed out. "Even if it's a different face, it's still <i>my</i> face." Then she frowned. "Okay, let's see the damage." She crouched down in front of Martha, one hand on Martha's shoulder. "We should probably take all of this off," she added, indicating the ripped up shirt.</p><p>	"Doctor," Martha mumbled, and she could feel her cheeks get hot. "Shouldn't you at least buy me dinner first, before you take all my clothes off?" She was stalling. She was stalling, and she <i>knew</i> she was stalling, and the Doctor probably knew she was stalling as well, and possibly the Doctor knew that she knew that the Doctor knew that...</p><p>	"I'm not taking all of your clothes off," the Doctor said, interrupting Martha's spiraling. "Just your shirt. You probably don't need to take your bra off." She paused. "I'm a woman," she added. "So you don't need to be embarrassed." </p><p>	Martha sighed, and she leaned back against the toilet tank. <i>I'm a doctor,</i> she reminded herself. <i>I've seen loads of people in various states of undress. There's nothing to it.</i> It didn't make lifting her shirt up any easier, especially when the cut (it was a cut, right? Not a slice or a stab, just a cut) sent a bolt of pain through her. </p><p>	"Let me do that," the Doctor said, and she was... crouching in front of Martha, her hands on Martha's knees. She was looking straight up into Martha's face, and her eyes were very deep, and very wide. "I know it's weird for you humans to wrap your head around Time Lord concepts of gender -"</p><p>	"It's a little weirder to wrap my head around why you're here in the first place," Martha interrupted, and okay, that had come out harsher than she'd meant it to. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but... I'm a bit confused." She let the Doctor tug her shirt up and off, wincing as her injury was jostled. </p><p>	"I was in the neighborhood, like I said," the Doctor said. This close, Martha could see the evasive expression that flickered across her face. She would never be any good at poker, clearly. </p><p>	"How were you in my exact neighborhood, in my exact timeline?" Martha lifted her arm when the Doctor nudged it, and glanced down, then back up. It was... a lot. It wasn't a <i>bad</i> cut, per se - she'd sewn up much worse on other people. She'd never been particularly good with her own injuries, though. </p><p>	"So I may have... been hanging about the neighborhood. A bit." The Doctor cleared her throat, and then she squinted at the cut. "I'm gonna clean it off, then we can bandage it."</p><p>	"Right," said Martha. "Is there some kind of alien activity going on?" That would be interesting. She kept a mental note of all the people who she thought might have been aliens who came into the clinic, but some of them might have just been odd humans. It could be hard to tell sometimes. </p><p>	"No, no alien activity," the Doctor said. She was washing her hands now, the sleeves of her white t-shirt rolled up around her elbows. She really did have lovely hands - Martha tried not to stare too hard as she lathered and rinsed them. </p><p>	"Something historic likely to happen, then?" Martha frowned down at her own side. There was blood on her bra. She'd never been any good at getting blood stains out of fabric, and this one was a nice, dark grey, so she wouldn't be able to properly bleach it, either.</p><p>	"It could be argued that something historic is <i>always</i> likely to happen," the Doctor said, and it was that same tone of voice that she'd used when she wore trainers and pinstripes. </p><p>	Martha rolled her eyes, and found herself grinning in spite of herself. The Doctor would always be the Doctor. "So what, exactly, brought you <i>here</i>?" </p><p>	The Doctor ran a cloth under the tap, then wrung it out. She crouched back down in front of Martha, and she was keeping her eyes on the cut as she began to dab the dried blood away. "I've been doin' some thinking," she said, and her tone was very matter of fact.</p><p>	"Good thing to do, think," Martha agreed. “I remember you bragging about all the thinking you did, back in the day.” She was baring her teeth and trying not to squirm away from the washcloth, as it gently cleaned off the cut. </p><p>	"I was kind of a prat back in the day," said the Doctor. She frowned, sitting back on her heels and wrinkling her nose. </p><p>	"Kind of," Martha echoed, not really thinking. Then she snorted, which sent another little wire of pain down her side, and she cringed away from the Doctor's gently probing fingers, and the warm washcloth. "Bit of an understatement there, don't y'think?" </p><p>	"Okay, I was a <i>major</i> prat," the Doctor amended, and then she frowned. "I think you're gonna need to take that off," she said, gesturing at Martha's bra.</p><p>	<i>The Doctor is asking me to take my clothes off</i>, Martha thought. <i>If I hadn't just been sliced up like a Christmas ham I might even find this titillating.</i> That was a word, and some part of her brain fixated on the first part of it - <i>tit</i>illating. She couldn't see down the Doctor's shirt from this angle, but she could see the shape of the Doctor's breasts, and oh, this was like the old days, ogling the Doctor, only not, because this wasn't a face she remembered. The Doctor she remembered wasn't quite so <i>tit</i>illating. </p><p>	She probably shouldn't have been giggling at that. </p><p>	"Martha?" The Doctor's hand was on Martha's knee, and that jolted Martha out of her daze. Was it a daze? It sent more pain, right up her side, and she hissed through her teeth. </p><p>	"Sorry, what?" Martha blinked down at the Doctor.</p><p>	"Your bra," the Doctor said. "I think we need to take that off of you." </p><p>	"Why?" Martha was having a bit of trouble connecting A to B.</p><p>	"Because I need to get the bandage all the way up," the Doctor said. "Then we can run you a bath, you can relax, and maybe phone in for some takeout. I remember you like takeout, although who doesn’t like takeout? What kinda takeout would you like?" The Doctor was talking now, a full on stream of chatter from her mouth.</p><p>	Martha couldn't think of a response to that, although she let herself be leaned back against the toilet tank; let the Doctor lean in close to her to unclip her bra. The Doctor's shoulder was pressed into her face, and she could smell the Doctor's laundry detergent, her shampoo, beeswax, engine oil. She could smell the Doctor's skin under it all, and that was the familiar and alien at the same time. She remembered being pressed up against the Doctor in countless small spaces, and taking in this same scent, only different. </p><p>	Her heart gave its familiar little jump, and her stomach twisted, just enough to make her want to roll her eyes at herself, except that would probably lead to further queasiness, which was very much not a thing she wanted. </p><p>	"I was a numpty," the Doctor said, as she carefully pulled Martha's bra down her arms, then left it in a heap on the floor. The Doctor was sitting on her heels now, and she was looking up into Martha's face with a nervous expression, rubbing her hands together. "Back in the day, when I had fancy hair and wore trainers." She was starting to talk a little faster now. "I don't think I've ever apologized for that, and I know that I should, since time is fleeting and you've done a lot of things for me that I never thanked you for and also because it's the right thing to do, obviously, you always should -" </p><p>	The Doctor was cut off by Martha's hand covering her mouth. "I appreciate the apology," said Martha, although the words felt odd in her mouth. "I'm not sure why you're deciding to give it now, but it is appreciated."</p><p>	"Well, no time like the present," the Doctor said, and then she was standing up, dusting her hands off. She turned the water on in the sink again, then began to later up her hands.</p><p>	"You still haven't told me why you're in my neighborhood, when I'm here," said Martha, although maybe the Doctor had, and Martha was just losing track of things. That was very much a distinct possibility. <i>The Doctor can see my nipples</i>, flashed across her mind, and she resisted the urge to cross her arms across her chest. She tried to imagine how the other Doctor would react to that - the Doctor she remembered from when she'd met him in the hospital, all those years ago. </p><p>	"Oh," said the Doctor, and she cleared her throat. "Well. Um." She rinsed her hands, then dried them. "I don't think your cut needs stitching," she said, which was clearly avoiding the question. "It's not very deep. The knife just sort of... skidded."</p><p>	"Skidded," Martha echoed; then, "you didn't answer my question." She hissed as the Doctor's warm fingers probed her tender side, along the edges of the cut.</p><p>	"I've been... well, it's an apology that's a long time coming, isn't it?" The Doctor said. "Gotta make sure it's... properly apologetic."</p><p>	<i>I know that tone</i>, thought Martha. <i>She's dithering.</i> "You're dithering," Martha said, because apparently her brain to mouth filter wasn't feeling cooperative today. Maybe she was just tired. Or maybe she was disarmed by the Doctor's current face, which was open and friendly, with a prettiness that Martha kept catching out of the corner of her eye. It was different from the weasel-y handsomeness of the other Doctor (of <i>her</i> Doctor, even if he'd never been hers, technically), and it was putting her off guard. </p><p>		"I'm not always the best at apologies," the Doctor said, and she cleared her throat. "So I've been hanging around, trying to see if I could figure out the right thing to say. Or... how to say the right thing, rather." She rubbed her hands together, and then she was standing up again, grabbing the special future bandages. "So I'm gonna bandage you up, and then how about you have a nice bath? Might help you come down from the shock."</p><p>	"I don't think I'm in shock," Martha protested, but that sounded faint even to her ears. </p><p>"Okay," she said, after a moment, "but do you know how to dress a wound?"</p><p>	"I'm more than two thousand years old," the Doctor said, her tone scolding. "Of course I know how to dress a wound." She rubbed her hands together, and she looked expectantly at Martha. "Lean over, please."</p><p>	"You were about nine hundred last time I talked to you," Martha murmured. "What've you been up to?" The Doctor's hands were cool against her skin - was she overheating? No, she remembered the Doctor having a lower body temperature, all those times they'd been pressed together, or when they'd held hands. </p><p>	"Well, y'know, time," the Doctor said. She was very carefully applying... something to the cut, and Martha could feel  herself drifting. It stung, just a bit, but that didn't matter. She was so tired, and it was so hard to keep her eyes open. She let herself drift, as the Doctor carefully applied the bandage to her. It stung like seven hells, but she could already feel herself starting to relax. Stinging meant it was working - that's what she always told her patients, when they complained.</p><p>	Martha was shaken awake by the Doctor, and she blinked, trying to get her bearings. The light overhead was yellow, bright, and the Doctor's hair seemed to be equally yellow, bright, and reflective. There was a line between her eyebrows, and she was clearly concerned. She was also saying something, although Martha was having trouble keeping track.</p><p>	"Sorry;" Martha said, "can you repeat that, please?"</p><p>	"I said," the Doctor said, "that you're bushed. Let's get you in the tub." She patted Martha on the leg. "Could you stand up, please?" </p><p>	Martha blinked owlishly at the Doctor, trying to get her mind to process. She rubbed her eyes, hard enough that she saw stars behind them, and then she sat up, slowly. "I should be alright on my own," she told the Doctor, which was a blatant lie. </p><p>	"If you're sure," the Doctor said, although she was biting her lip. She looked apprehensive. "Howsabout I wait outside, and if you need anything, you holler?" Then she grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. "I say 'holler' now, isn't it a great word? Especially since it can mean both a -"</p><p>	"That sounds like a good plan," Martha said, cutting the Doctor off before they both got distracted by a tangent. She made a shooing motion with one hand, then. "Now out with you, so I can get undressed." Then she paused. "Will the bandage be okay?"</p><p>	"Oh yeah," said the Doctor. "Waterproof, like I said!" She grinned, gave a double thumbs up, and it was such a goofy expression that Martha burst out laughing.</p><p>	She stopped pretty quickly, clutching at her side, because... <i>ouch</i>. </p><p>	The Doctor shot her a concerned look. "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" Her eyes kept darting from Martha's face to her chest to the cut, and Martha wasn't sure what to make of that. Maybe the Doctor <i>did</i> find her attractive, this time 'round. Or maybe the Doctor was just worried about her, and she was reading too much into this. </p><p>	Maybe a bath was a bad idea. Maybe she should have just shooed the Doctor out, then taken a shower and gone to sleep. She probably needed to call in to work as well, although that was a problem for future Martha. But a bath... to sit in steaming hot water and let the relaxation sink into her bones...</p><p>	"Martha," the Doctor said, and that snapped Martha out of whatever daze she must have fallen into.</p><p>	"Sorry," Martha said, then; "I'll be fine. Go make some tea or somethin'." She paused. "And don't go fiddling with my electronics, either," she added, and shook her finger.</p><p>	"I'd be able to do -"</p><p>	"I don't need to be able to pick up radio stations from Venus," Martha told the Doctor's retreating back.</p><p>	"You wouldn't want 'em anyway," the Doctor said, and she shot Martha a particularly cheeky grin as she started to shut the door. "Nothin' but talk radio!"</p><p>	Martha rolled her eyes, but she snickered as she turned the water on. </p><p>* * * </p><p>	Martha lay in her bathtub, letting her mind wander. She probably should have taken some kind of painkiller, all things considered, but she wanted to keep a clear head. Inasmuch as she could have a clear head. She stretched, and her toes didn't even reach the other end of the bathtub. </p><p>	She really had been lucky, scoring this apartment. She'd chosen it on the merit of its bathtub alone, which was <i>also</i> why her kitchen was so tiny and her bedroom had a weird slope to the ceiling. But none of that mattered. What mattered, right in that very moment, was that the Doctor was standing in Martha's apartment. A completely different Doctor from the one that Martha had known, true, but still the Doctor, in all the ways that mattered.</p><p>	<i>I think I'm over that crush</i>, Martha thought, as she floated, suspended, in the hot water. <i>So why do I still get butterflies in my stomach when she smiles at me? Can you have a residual crush? Would it count as a residual crush, if it's on the same person, but with a different face?</i> These things were always simpler in the movies. Not that she'd ever seen a movie with this kind of thing in it, but... still. </p><p>	Martha let her eyes drift shut, as she floated, suspended, in the water. Her head was resting on the back of the tub. <i>It really is a good thing I pinned my hair up before work</i>, she thought, and then she was drifting off. </p><p>* * * </p><p>	"Martha," said the Doctor, and there was the sensation of being shaken. The water had gone cool, and Martha jerked upright, then gasped as the pain shot up her side.</p><p>	"What?" Martha met the Doctor's eyes, then realized just how... naked she was. She crossed her arms over her breasts - or at least, she tried to. That led to more pulling on her wound. She let her arms drop to her sides, and tried not to think about just how much of her was on display.</p><p>	"You fell asleep," the Doctor said. She was kneeling on the floor next to the tub. "You went quiet for about half an hour, I started to get a little worried when you didn't answer me." The Doctor was turning pink - was it from the heat of the bathroom? No, the water had cooled down. And the Doctor's eyes kept darting from Martha's face to her breasts in the water, then back up. </p><p>	Hm.</p><p>	"Sorry 'bout that," Martha said, and she sat up, water sloshing over the edge of the bathtub. She caught the Doctor's eyes darting down again, and the Doctor was turning pinker. </p><p>	"No, no, it's fine," said the Doctor hurriedly. "I, um, I brought you some food. Since you lost a decent amount of blood, it's good to get some sugar in you." She held up a plate. There was a peeled orange on it. </p><p>	"Oh," Martha said, and she blinked. "Right. That makes sense." </p><p>	"I do that sometimes," the Doctor said, and she held up the plate, offering Martha the plate..</p><p>	"Let me get out of the bath first," Martha said. "My hands are all covered in bath water." </p><p>	"Don't worry about it," the Doctor assured Martha. She put the plate down, and she was... holding out a segment of orange, close enough to Martha's face that the citrus almost stung her sinuses.</p><p>	Martha kept eye contact with the Doctor, and she moved forward, slowly, to be easy on her side. She opened her mouth, and she took the little segment of orange into her mouth, biting down. The sweetness of it exploded in her mouth like a supernova, and she shivered. It was like a firework on a dark night, and it was taking effort not to make some kind of embarrassing noise. </p><p>	Wow, but she was in shock.</p><p>	"Good?" The Doctor's eyes were still on Martha's face. Her thumb was resting on Martha's lower lip, and the air seemed to be full of some kind of tension. Martha's heart was beating very fast, and the Doctor's eyes were very deep.</p><p>	"Give me another one," Martha said, and that was probably a rude way to put it, to just tell the Doctor what to do, but the Doctor shivered, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. </p><p>	Martha shouldn't have followed it the way she did, as her own mouth went dry. The next segment of orange was sweet and juicy on her tongue, and she sighed, letting the sweetness rush over her. </p><p>	"Sometimes I think about the old days," the Doctor said, and she held out another segment of orange. "About all the signs I missed. And how much of a numpty I was." </p><p>	Martha took the segment of orange into her mouth, and she let her lips linger on the Doctor's fingertips. Her tongue darted out, and she let the very tip of it trace along the blunt curve of the Doctor's nail.</p><p>	<i>This seems like a bad idea</i>, whispered the more rational part of her mind. <i>Your crush is gonna get bad all over again and you're gonna embarrass yourself.</i> She caught the look that the Doctor was shooting her, and all rational thought went out the window.</p><p>	Martha took the Doctor's finger into her mouth, and the pad of it rested on her tongue. She sucked, letting her cheeks hollow out just enough to be noticeable, and then she slowly, carefully, pulled off of the Doctor's finger.</p><p>	The Doctor looked faintly shell shocked. She was breathing heavily, and she was turning very pink. "Um," she said. </p><p>	"Doctor," Martha said, "give me another one." She wasn't sure why she was taking charge like this - it wasn't as if she was typically bossy in intimate situations. Although did this count as an intimate situation? </p><p>	She was naked in the bath, and she'd just had the Doctor's fingers in her mouth. You didn't get much more intimate than that, did you?</p><p>	"Of course," the Doctor said, and she held out another segment between two fingers. </p><p>	Martha took both the sliver of orange and the Doctor's fingers into her mouth, and she sucked on them both. The orange burst, and the juice dripped through the Doctor's fingers, wet against Martha's tongue. She swallowed, and she lapped at the space between the Doctor's index and middle finger, keeping her eyes locked on the Doctor's. She leaned further forward, until the Doctor's fingertips were pressed against her molars, and then she pulled back again, until just the very tips of the Doctor's fingers rested on her lower lip.</p><p>	"I think that might've been more impressive when you were a man," Martha said, and she was surprised at how matter of fact her own voice sounded to her ear.</p><p>	The Doctor was still sitting there, looking stunned.</p><p>	"Or maybe not," Martha said, and then she was leaning forward again (her side twinged at her, but she could ignore that right now, which was probably a dumb thing to do). </p><p>	"I think that'd be impressive to anyone who wasn't <i>dead</i>," the Doctor said, her tone fervent, and then she didn't say anything, because Martha was kissing her.</p><p>	It was an awkward kiss - the side of the bathtub was between the two of them, and Martha was twisting herself up in an awkward position in order to properly kiss her. But the Doctor's hands were coming up to cup Martha's cheeks, and when they pulled apart the Doctor wore the same shell shocked expression. </p><p>	"Oh," the Doctor said, and her voice cracked.</p><p>	"You can just..." Martha started to say, and then she cleared her throat. "Was that the wrong thing to do?"</p><p>	"No," the Doctor said, "no, it was a long time coming, but I think..." She licked her lips, and then she was kissing Martha again, and it was a deeper kiss this time, a more desperate one. There was something frenzied about the way her mouth moved against Martha’s, and it reminded Martha of the way the Doctor used to run, all flailing energy focused on one point. The Doctor's tongue was pressing against Martha’s, and the Doctor's fingers were clutching at her shoulders. When they pulled apart, the Doctor was panting, open mouthed.</p><p>	"This would be a little easier without this in the way," Martha said, and she knocked her knuckles against the side of the tub. "Get in with me," she said, before her brain had a chance to catch up with her mouth. Or maybe that was her libido, climbing out from between her teeth.</p><p>	"Right," said the Doctor, and she stood up. </p><p>	<i>I'm gonna get to see the Doctor naked</i>, raced through Martha’s mind, and that was a dizzying thought. <i>I've been kissing the Doctor, and now I'm going to see her naked.</i> She'd never seen much of the last Doctor - her Doctor - since he was always so buttoned up. </p><p>	What she was <i>not</i> expecting was for the Doctor to climb right into the tub. She was still wearing all her clothes - even her <i>socks</i>, and that had to be against some law of nature. She just... sank down, her knees bracketing Martha's thighs, supporting her own weight via the sides of the bathtub. </p><p>	"You're still dressed," Martha said, looking up at the Doctor.</p><p>	The Doctor looked down at herself, and she scrunched her nose up. "Yep," she said, as if this was a revelation to herself. "You said to get in."</p><p>	"I did," Martha agreed, and she shifted her own weight, until she was more supported by the back of the tub (thankfully, it sloped), and tugged the Doctor down, to sit in her lap. It was still... pretty awkward, and they barely fit, with water sloshing over onto the floor.</p><p>	Martha would worry about that later. </p><p>	The water was soaking into the Doctor's blue trousers, turning them a darker blue. She licked her lips, and she shivered. "I think I probably should've taken my socks off first," she told Martha, as if she was imparting a great secret.</p><p>	"Probably," Martha agreed, and then she started to reach up... and stopped, because no, her injury wasn't having that. "Bend down and kiss me some more, since you're here."</p><p>	The Doctor shivered, and she leaned down. She had one hand on the back of the tub now, and she was looming over Martha. Somehow, Martha still managed to feel like she was in charge, as she slid her hands down to rest on the Doctor's hips. The Doctor was still balanced precariously on top of her, wobbling just a bit. She kissed Martha sweet and soft, and Martha wished she could thread her fingers through the Doctor's hair. She settled on sliding her fingers into the Doctor's braces, using them to tug the Doctor closer to her.</p><p>	Martha stayed in that lovely place for some unknown amount of time. She kissed and was kissed as the Doctor's mouth moved against her own. She was careful as she slid her hands up, towards the waistband of the Doctor's trousers. She tugged gently at the bottom of one of the braces, then made an attempt at tugging at the Doctor’s shirt.</p><p>	Ow.</p><p>	“Lift your shirt up,” Martha said, and she was trying to use the same voice she’d been using when she told the Doctor to feed her. </p><p>	“Oh,” the Doctor said, then: “my bra too?”</p><p>	“Yeah,” Martha said, “that too.” She let her eyes dart between the Doctor’s face to the slow ascent of the t-shirt hems, until she was looking into the Doctor’s face, fabric bunched up under her chin. And there were the Doctor’s breasts, small and pale enough that they were practically glowing in the fluorescent light, with pink little nipples that were getting hard in the cooler air. </p><p>	“Haven’t done much with these,” the Doctor admitted. </p><p>	“Really?” Martha wanted to grab them, to squeeze them, to twist the Doctor's nipples between her fingers and pinch them until she heard the Doctor squeal. But raising her arms right now was probably a bad idea. “If I found myself with a new body, I know the first thing I’d wanna do is get my hands all over it, see what does what.” </p><p>	“I mean,” the Doctor said, her tone reflective, “I’ve done a little self exploration. It’s like gettin’ a new car, you wanna pop up the hood and have a rummage around in the engine -”</p><p>	“I don’t know <i>anyone</i> who does that,” Martha interrupted, and she was grinning. The Doctor was the Doctor, no matter what. “Lean forward.”</p><p>	“Why?” The Doctor seemed to have shaken off some of that biddable headspace, which was a pity. </p><p>“Because I told you so,” said Martha, and that wasn’t a thing that she normally said, but it seemed to be a thing she said now. </p><p>	“Right,” the Doctor said, and her voice cracked. “Good reason.” </p><p>	“I know, right,” Martha agreed, and she pressed her face forward awkwardly, nuzzling to the space between the Doctor’s breasts. It had been a while since she’d done this kind of thing, although it wasn’t that hard to get back into the flow. She left a trail of kisses along the Doctor’s breast, then drew one nipple into her mouth and sucked, hard enough that the Doctor <i>squealed</i>. </p><p>	The Doctor's skin tasted like salt, and her hearts were thudding away against Martha's cheek. Her nipple was hard against the tip of Martha's tongue, and she made desperate little noises with every bit of suction, or nibble of teeth. The Doctor was leaning further forward, forward enough that most of her breast fit into Martha's mouth. They were small enough, too, and the Doctor squealed again, her knees digging into Martha's hips.</p><p>	<i>I am going to be sore after all of this</i>, Martha thought, as she brought her hands over to fumble open the fastening to the Doctor's trousers. She wasn't even thinking as she did it, until the Doctor's hands covered hers. </p><p>	Martha let go of the Doctor's breast, pressing a wet little kiss to the space between the two, and then looked awkwardly up at the Doctor. "D'you want..." She let the tip of her finger trace along the waistband of the Doctor's boxers. </p><p>	The Doctor squeezed Martha's fingers, and then she was guiding them in, carefully. The fabric was sodden with water, and the Doctor hissed through her teeth when Martha's finger wormed its way into the slit at the front of her boxers (why was she wearing men's boxers?) and traced along the line of her slit. </p><p>	"That's still pretty new," the Doctor said, her voice breathless. "I haven't... done much with it." The muscles of her thighs were like rocks, and she was trembling. </p><p>	Martha snorted, and she turned her head to mouth at that Doctor's other breast. "Pity," she said. "Feels pretty nice." She found the hard nub of the Doctor's clit, and swirled the tip of her index finger over it. </p><p>	"D-d-does it?" The Doctor's voice was strained, and Martha looked up, adjusting her wrist so that she could fit more of her hand inside of the Doctor's boxers. </p><p>	"Oh yes," said Martha. "Soft and warm and wet. Are you wet for me, Doctor?" This was all faintly pornographic, and taking on an almost hallucinatory quality. Was the exhaustion and shock finally setting in?</p><p>	"I mean," the Doctor said, "I did get in the bath for you." </p><p>	Martha snickered, and she nipped the Doctor's breast and pressed down on the Doctor's clit in the same moment. She liked the way the Doctor froze when she did it, so she did it again. </p><p>	"<i>Oh</i>," the Doctor said. "Can you..." She cleared her throat, and she leaned back, so that she was resting most of her weight on Martha's breasts. Regrettably, her breasts were no longer in Martha's face. "Inside. Please?"</p><p>	"Yeah, hold on," Martha said, and then she was shifting her hand inside of the wet fabric. Her fingers met with curly hair, warm skin, and then her middle finger was being drawn into silky tightness, and the Doctor gasped. </p><p>	"You feel so... full," the Doctor murmured. "No, not you," she added as an afterthought. "Me. <i>I</i> feel so full. Of you. Am I making sense?" She gave a hiccupy little gasp as Martha's finger curled inside of her. </p><p>	"Kind of," Martha said. It was a little difficult to work within the confines of the Doctor's underwear. She curled her finger again, and pressed her thumb against the Doctor's clit. </p><p>	The Doctor shuddered, and her hips rocked forward minutely. She was clearly doing her best not to jostle Martha's wound, and actually, now that she thought about it, there was less pain now. Wait a minute.</p><p>	"Doctor?" Martha stilled her hand, her finger still curled inside of the Doctor, her thumb still resting on the Doctor's clit.</p><p>	"Y-yes?" The Doctor was trembling, holding herself stock still. It was a good look on her, and Martha rubbed her own thighs together - <i>she's staying still for me, just for me; she climbed into the bath for me; what else would she do if I asked her to?</i> - and met the Doctor's eyes.</p><p>	"Is there any kind of painkiller in this special bandage you gave me?" Martha gave a little squeeze, and the Doctor whimpered. </p><p>	"Might be," the Doctor said. "Might be somethin' else." She was groping at her own breasts now, kneading them roughly. "Is that really relevant right now?" She gave a little wriggle.</p><p>	Martha cautiously lifted her arm up, higher than she could before. There was a little bit of an ache, but not that same bolt shooting up. "What d'you mean by 'something else,' exactly?" Martha moved the Doctor's hand, and cupped the Doctor's breast, her thumb against the Doctor's nipple. It was as hard against her thumb as it had been against her tongue, and the Doctor's cunt squeezed her, lovely and tight. </p><p>	"Might be medical nanobots," the Doctor said, "might be... mm..." </p><p>	"Might be...?" Martha repeated, circling both thumbs at the same time. </p><p>	"I can't <i>think</i> when you do that," the Doctor complained.</p><p>	"Big brain like yours, distracted by my fingers?" Martha wriggled them. “They’re not even especially <i>big</i> fingers!” Wow, her filter was down. </p><p>	The Doctor made a pitiful noise, and ground down on Martha’s hand. “I’m gonna come if you keep that up,” she whined, and it was a proper whine too. That shouldn’t have made Martha’s cunt clench like that, a shock of heat going straight to her clit. Seeing the Doctor reduced to… <i>this</i> was amazing. </p><p>"What, already?" Martha pressed down a little harder, with her thumb and the finger inside of the Doctor. "So what was in that bandage that's got me feeling so much better?"</p><p>"G-g-genuinely don't… don't remember, please Martha!" The Doctor’s hips wriggled, and she seemed to get tighter. </p><p>	"Because I still remember the time that you accidentally gave me that medicine that turned me green for a week," Martha said. She tugged on the Doctor's nipple, then rolled her thumb over it, the same motion she was using on the Doctor's clit. "Wouldn't want to show up to work at a civilian medical clinic bright green, would I?" Martha was barely paying attention to what was coming out of her mouth, was just letting the words flow as she fucked the Doctor.  </p><p>	"It... shouldn't... <i>Martha</i>!" The Doctor threw her head back. "If you keep... doing that... I can have this discussion or you can... k-k-keep doing that." The Doctor's hips were circling, chasing the pleasure. Then she opened her eyes wide, and met Martha's gaze. "Gel. Special gel. I got it from the Forty Fifth Century, when you lot figured out a whole bunch of bioengineering, I think I shoved it in my pocket because humans are always getting into trouble; <i>please</i>, Martha!" </p><p>	"Very good," Martha said, and she curled her fingers and pressed down harder on the Doctor's clit, twisting the Doctor's nipple like a radio dial between her thumb and forefinger.</p><p>	The Doctor went utterly rigid, and her cunt fluttered around Martha's fingers. She slumped forward, nearly toppling over, and she was panting, her face screwed up.</p><p>	"Did you just...?" Martha wriggled the finger inside of the Doctor's cunt, and the Doctor squeezed her again, tighter, and whimpered. </p><p>	"Might've," the Doctor mumbled, and she cleared her throat. "Possibly."</p><p>	"Well," said Martha, and she wriggled her finger again, then nudged at the Doctor's entrance with her index finger, "guess it's a good thing  you've got the new equipment, then. Makes it easier to go for more than one round." </p><p>	The Doctor spread her legs a little wider, putting more weight on Martha's thighs and leaning back to give Martha more room to maneuver. She grunted when it was pressed into her, and she sighed, as Martha began to curl and straighten her fingers again. </p><p>	"Oh, that's... you're very... good at that, Martha, you are, I don't know why I'm so surprised, when you're so good at so many things with your hands, especially when it comes to... physical things, <i>ooh</i>, please do that again!" </p><p>	Martha pressed down on the Doctor's g-spot with just enough force to make the Doctor's hips buck. She kept up the steady pressure, and kept rubbing the Doctor's clit,  listening to the desperate little noises that the Doctor was making. One of the Doctor's hearts was beating desperately under her hand. She tried to lean forward... and winced, because even feeling better, she wasn't at a hundred percent yet.</p><p>	"You okay?" The Doctor shot Martha a worried look, which quickly morphed into an open mouthed gasp as Martha did something especially clever with her wrist, which was still trapped in fabric.</p><p>	"I'm doing great," Martha assured the Doctor. "Absolutely <i>fantastic</i>." Her fingers were starting to prune up, and her own arousal was beginning to pull her tighter and tighter. She was pressing her thighs together, her toes curling against the bathtub. </p><p>	"Oh <i>fuck</i>," the Doctor gasped,  and then she was coming again, her fingers digging into Martha's shoulder and her cunt pulsing around Martha's fingers like a star. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Martha!"</p><p>	"Ride it out," Martha said, and she kept her tone soothing. "Ride it out, just like that..." She kept rubbing, gently, and curving her fingers, just to watch the Doctor squirm against her. The water was splashing around them, and the floor was going to be so wet - the drag of the Doctor's trousers was suddenly almost too much against Martha's bare skin, and she wanted to be pressed against the Doctor, wanted to kiss her and hold her and keep fucking her or be fucked by her. </p><p>	Wanted to share all those years of longing and frustration, wanted to make the Doctor feel the way Martha had felt, however briefly. She looked up at the Doctor, and she caught the look the Doctor was shooting her - full of tenderness, and something that may have been sadness. </p><p>	Martha carefully removed her hand from the Doctor's trousers, stretching her fingers. She made a big show of pulling her fingers out and licking them, just to see the Doctor turn pinker. The Doctor tasted different from a human, although not in any way that Martha could pinpoint. "This is really nice," she told the Doctor, "but I think it'd be even nicer on a bed. Or a couch. Or any surface that's got some kind of give to it, really." </p><p>	"I owe you <i>at least</i> two orgasms," the Doctor said earnestly, and she carefully climbed out of the bath. She stood on the floor of the bathroom, then made a face. "Cor, I forgot how heavy these get when they're wet," she said, and she was unfastening her braces. Regretfully, her shirts had fallen back down, and her breasts were no longer in view. Her bra was still bunched up over them, and made a lump under the two t-shirts. </p><p>	"I feel like orgasms aren't a thing that are <i>owed</i>," Martha said, and she sat up, slowly. Her side twinged at her, but it wasn't the same screaming pain that had taken over all her other senses.</p><p>	“Fair enough, fair enough,” the Doctor said. She was unfastening her braces, and shoving her trousers down - they fell onto the floor with a wet noise, a sodden heap around her ankles. “But still.” She smiled, and there were more teeth in that smile than Martha was used to. “I’m a lot less new at <i>that</i>, I can assure you.” </p><p>	“Someone’s confident,” Martha teased, and her hands on the sides of the bathtub and tried to pull herself up. More pain, sharper this time. “More confident than I am about getting out of this tub,” she added, making a face. </p><p>	“C’mere,” said the Doctor, and then she was grabbing Martha under the armpits and hauling her upright.</p><p>	Martha leaned heavily against the bathroom wall, panting, and she made a face. “So your special bandages aren’t perfect,” she said. </p><p>	“Give it a day or two,” the Doctor said. “You’ll feel better for some sleep.” She brightened up. “D’you know what helps with sleep?” The Doctor grabbed for a towel, and she began to carefully pat Martha down. “Look, see, bandage is still dry!”</p><p>		"Impressive," Martha agreed. She yawned, wide enough that her jaw cracked, and the Doctor winced. </p><p>	"That didn't sound nice." The Doctor was rubbing along Martha's chest, although it felt more like she was trying to feel Martha's breasts than trying to dry them. </p><p>	There was something gratifying about knowing that the Doctor was noticing her <i>now</i>, after all those years. It wasn't exactly the same as when she'd been young and traveling with the Doctor who had the trainers and the suits, but it was something. </p><p>	"Sounded worse than it felt," Martha said, shaken out of her own thoughts by the Doctor's thumb brushing against her nipple. She put her hand over the Doctor's, and she met the Doctor's eyes. She hadn't ever been any good at being especially alluring, but she gave a decent attempt, keeping the eye contact as she pressed the Doctor's hand against her, so that the Doctor could feel the thud of her heartbeat. "Take me to bed, Doctor?"</p><p>	This was probably a bad idea. She should have been going to sleep - she was <i>tired</i>, in her bones, and she would probably be going in to work in the morning. Although then again, getting stabbed was a good reason not to. </p><p>	<i>I used to have a work ethic, before I got this job.</i> Although that wasn't strictly true. She'd had a work ethic when she'd still worked for UNIT. Throwing her everything into an organization only for it to be declared "unnecessary" was still biting her in the ass. </p><p>	"Martha?" The Doctor's voice was gentle. "Are you alright?" </p><p>	"Yeah," Martha said. "Yeah, sorry." She squeezed the Doctor's hand. </p><p>	"Let's get you to bed," the Doctor said. "It'll do you good."</p><p>	"Doctor's orders?" Martha teased. </p><p>	"And you know it!"</p><p>* * *</p><p>	Martha Jones lay flat on her back in her bed, and she tried to remember how to breathe. It was usually a pretty easy thing to do, breathe - she didn't normally have to think about doing it, she just had to <i>do</i> it. One of those autonomic functions. Although presently her brain was chasing itself in circles, as the Doctor kissed down her body, careful not to put any weight on her bad side. The Doctor's mouth was hot and wet along Martha's pulse point, and the Doctor's loose hair was ticklish along Martha's shoulders. </p><p>	"I've always thought you have the most <i>amazing</i> breasts," the Doctor told Martha, and her tone was full of the same unbridled enthusiasm that Martha had heard the Doctor discuss dodos, or landing on the moon. </p><p>	"Didja now?" Martha rested one hand on the Doctor's head, letting the Doctor's hair sift through her fingers like flour. She was floating in some sweet, quiet space, aroused and tired and loopy from the leftover adrenaline. She wanted to stay here forever, with the Doctor. The dim light of her bedroom felt a bit like sitting in the open door of the TARDIS over the vast array of space, watching the dimness of space around them. </p><p>	In this moment, there was nobody else in the universe but Martha and the Doctor, and nothing outside of the circle of light existed. </p><p>	The Doctor's lips closed around Martha's nipple, lapping at it with the flat of her tongue, and Martha moaned, and let the feeling wash over her. Maybe she was coming down from the shock of being stabbed, of seeing the Doctor. Maybe it was all of the stress and anxiety that she'd been carrying finally leaving her body, at least temporarily. </p><p>	The Doctor was naked - she'd left her wet clothing in a heap on the bathroom floor, and her bare skin was faintly chilly where it rubbed against Martha's own. Her breasts were just as wonderful unframed by fabric, and her pubic hair was faintly scratchy against Martha's thigh, as she pressed close. </p><p>	<i>When was the last time I was naked with another person?</i> Martha thought dazedly, as the Doctor switched to the other nipple, trailing kisses down one side of Martha's breast to the other. She nipped, gently, and Martha squirmed, then hissed as the cut in her side twanged at her. </p><p>	It seemed that it was less happy when she was flat out like this, which was going to make sleeping exciting.</p><p>	She'd worry about that later.</p><p>	"Probably should've said something sooner, honestly," the Doctor said, her tone reflective as she breathed across Martha's wet nipple. "I know I didn't let you know how much I appreciated you, back in the day."</p><p>	"Might've been sending a bit of a mixed signal, I think," Martha said, tucking a piece of blond hair behind the Doctor's ear. "What with you making it clear you weren't into me... that way, then making a comment about my tits."</p><p>	"Wouldn't have called 'em tits," the Doctor said, and she sounded faintly scandalized. “I’m more refined than that, I’d like to think!” </p><p>	Martha snorted, and she cupped the Doctor’s cheek, her thumb against the Doctor’s cheekbone. The skin was soft against her palm, soft and warm. “I didn’t think you noticed anything about me, back then,” she said, and her voice was quiet. </p><p>		The Doctor turned her head, and she kissed Martha's palm. "I was an utter numpty back then," she said. "A twit. A prat." She punctuated each word with a kiss to Martha's nipple. "An idiot. A jerk. A total -"</p><p>	"I get the point, Doctor," Martha said, although she was giggling in spite of herself. "You don't need to keep beating yourself up." She sighed, as the Doctor began to kiss lower, the tips of her hair ticklish against the delicate skin of Martha's belly. </p><p>	"But you can't beat me up, when you're in this kind of shape," the Doctor protested. "You're a bit too delicate, presently."</p><p>	"Presently? So I'm not too delicate the rest of the time?" It seemed so <i>easy</i> to just lie here, talking to the Doctor, arousal smoldering in her belly. She'd read about underground fires once, heat and smoke under miles of dirt, and that was almost what it felt like. Heat, buried so deep, but sinking down through her. Maybe it would set her on fire, maybe it would be extinguished, but for now it just simmered inside of her.</p><p>	Wait, simmered? Wasn't simmering a thing with liquids? </p><p>	"Oh, no," the Doctor said, pulling Martha out  pondering. Her tone was very serious. "You're one of the strongest people I know." She kissed lower, between Martha's breasts, and then she pressed her ear against Martha's sternum. She seemed satisfied with whatever it was that she heard (Martha's heartbeat?), and she nipped at the side of Martha's breast. </p><p>	"I wouldn't have run into an alley after a man with a knife if I was stronger," Martha murmured. She twisted the Doctor's hair between her fingers, and she let herself drift. Physical contact was good, heat was good. The pain was on the distant horizon, and here and now, she was just existing as herself, a body on a bed with another body pressed against her. </p><p>	"That's not a case of strength, just a lack of forethought," the Doctor said. She was kissing lower now, onto the softness of Martha's belly. Her tongue was ticklish, and now her hands were on Martha's thighs, trailing up and down with just enough pressure to bring up goosebumps. "Not gonna be throwin' any stones from my glass house, I'll tell you that much."</p><p>	Martha snorted. "TARDIS is made out of glass now, is it?" She sighed, spreading her legs wider as the Doctor's breath ruffled her pubic hair, and the Doctor's torso wriggled between her open thighs.</p><p>	"I could have a house, y'know," the Doctor said. "Not just the TARDIS." </p><p>	Martha attempted to sit up to get a better look at the Doctor, then winced, more pain shooting up from her side. She settled on looking at the Doctor over the curve of her belly, from between her own breasts. She raised an eyebrow, and the Doctor grinned at her, clearly very pleased with herself. </p><p>	"Wouldn't want to live in a glass house, though," the Doctor said, and her tone was reflective as she shuffled closer, until her hot breath was gusting across Martha's cunt. It was an exquisite tease, and Martha sighed, her heels pressing into the Doctor's sides.</p><p>	"No?" Martha rested one hand on top of the Doctor's head, and then she shivered, as the tip of the Doctor's tongue traced across her slit, then pressed against her clit with just enough pressure to make her toes curl.</p><p>	"Too hot," the Doctor mumbled, and then she was pressing her whole face forward, opening her mouth wide enough that it was covering Martha's whole vulva. The Doctor’s tongue was gentle as it slipped between her labia, and she whimpered as it prodded at her entrance.</p><p>	Everything went a bit foggy after that. The Doctor was good with her tongue, better than Martha could ever have imagined. Martha let her head tilt back, her legs spreading wider, and she let go of the Doctor's hair to cover her own mouth, as the Doctor licked and sucked. The Doctor's tongue seemed to be everywhere at once; the flat of it passing over her clit, the tip wriggling inside of her, the whole of it making its way up and down the length of her. At some point, the Doctor's clever fingers became involved as well, and Martha gasped, clenching around them.</p><p>	Martha wasn't able to do much with her hips - every time she tried to rock them or roll herself forward, there would be another little jolt of pain, reminding her of the injury on her side. She was trying not to thrash or kick, trying not to do anything that might cause any injury, to herself or to the Doctor. The pleasure that had been smoldering inside of her seemed to be building and <i>building</i>, as her cunt clenched tight around the Doctor's finger - fingers?</p><p>	"You're so wet," the Doctor murmured at one point, and then she was sucking on one of Martha's labia, running her teeth gently along it. She let go of it, and then she was wrapping her lips around Martha's clit and sucking, hard enough that Martha's whole body seemed to go tense. </p><p>	"I'm... I had a bath," Martha murmured, as if that was an answer. As if that made any kind of sense. As if <i>anything</i> made sense, but what would make sense, when she was being eaten out by the Doctor - the <i>Doctor</i>, who she had imagined between her legs more times than she'd ever admit to. </p><p>	"I was there," the Doctor said, and she was giggling, little vibrations going through her mouth to tickle along Martha's clit, over her labia. She dived back down, and she seemed to be licking harder, her tongue doing things that Martha didn't think were possible, although then again, how was Martha supposed to know anything, when the Doctor's fingers were curling inside of her, pressing right up against her g-spot. </p><p>	Martha didn't dignify the Doctor's snarky comment with any kind of response - truth be told, she wasn't sure if she had it in her. She wasn't sure she had anything in her except the Doctor's tongue, the Doctor's finger, the pleasure that the Doctor was building, hotter and hotter.</p><p>	"I'm..." Martha mumbled, and she teetered over the very edge of her orgasm, one hand clutching at her own face, one hand in the Doctor's hair. "Doctor!"</p><p>	"No," the Doctor said, and she pulled back, pressing a delicate kiss to the inside of Martha's thigh. "I'm the Doctor. Although you're <i>a</i> doctor, so I suppose -"</p><p>	"Doctor," Martha said, and her voice cracked. </p><p>	She apparently didn't need to say anything else, because the Doctor pressed her face back down, and then she was sucking on Martha's clit again, moving her fingers, and Martha came around the Doctor's fingers, against the Doctor's face. She was grinding her hips forward as much as she could, although little bolts of pain still got her now and then. She ended up lying on the bed, panting up at the ceiling, slick with sweat. </p><p>	The Doctor nuzzled into Martha's thigh, resting her cheek against it. "I think you've got another few in you," she told Martha, her tone as casual as anything, "but I'm gonna wait to give 'em to you tomorrow. I think you're just about wiped out." She moved out from between Martha's legs, flopped out full length next to Martha on the bed. </p><p>	<i>I guess I wasn’t just optimistic when I bought this bed</i>, Martha thought, and she reached out to pat the Doctor on the cheek, her fingers clumsy. “So you’ll be here tomorrow?” She hated how plaintive she sounded.</p><p>	“Not due anywhere for a bit,” the Doctor told Martha. She took Martha’s hand in her own, and she pressed it against her own cheek, kissing the palm. “I’m all yours, for a little while.”</p><p>	Martha smiled, her eyes getting heavy and her chest full of brightness. “I can live with a little while,” she said. </p><p>	She still needed to call her job and let them know she wasn’t going to be in tomorrow, needed to get up and pee, needed to get the Doctor’s wet clothes off of the floor. But she’d deal with that in a moment. For now, she was going to stay in this little island of light with the Doctor.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>